The Shipwreck of Reason
by Sobriquett
Summary: Example for the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Cullen contest, in which a young housemaid finds herself caught between the genial Dr. Masen and his licentious new assistant, Mr. Cullen.


**Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Cullen Contest**

**EXAMPLE FIC (NOT ELIGIBLE)**

Pen name: **Sobriquett**

Title: **The Shipwreck of Reason**

Word Count:** 11,680**

Rating:** M**

**Summary: **Example for the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Cullen contest, in which a young housemaid finds herself caught between the genial Dr. Masen and his licentious new assistant, Mr. Cullen.

**Disclaimer**

_Twilight_ and its characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer; _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ belongs to Robert Louis Stevenson, and _Mary Reilly_ to Valerie Martin. No copyright infringement is intended and all creative rights to these characters belong to their original authors. No profit is being made from this story.

Some lines are borrowed from the film _Mary Reilly_, and the title comes from Chapter 9 of Stevenson's novella.

* * *

Bella was not easily surprised in her line of work.

Every day followed the same routine — early mornings, hard work, seeing very little of her master but entirely too much of her master's butler, so Bella _was_ surprised when Dr. Masen gathered the servants in the evening for an announcement.

From the moment Dr. Masen's stern old butler, Mr. Whitlock, informed them of the arrangements, it had been the source of a day's worth of gossip and speculation.

"Oh, it's been nearly _two years_ since he even _saw_ a patient!"

The effusive housekeeper, Mrs. Brandon, who insisted the others called her Mary Alice whenever the easily-perturbed butler's ears were out of range, repeated her point in every new conversation. "I wonder if he's going to start working in public again, or maybe he'll be entertaining – it's been years! Oh, good lord, how I'd love to have the house full again like it used to be…"

Rosalie, the other housemaid, scoffed. "With all that washing up? No thank you, I like things just as they are…"

Bella smiled shyly over at the pair. She hadn't been here then, having spent six years working for her previous family, although she enjoyed herself far more here in Soho than Cheapside.

Then, as all three women had half-expected, Mr. Whitlock entered and silenced them with a few choice words before carrying on, leaving the three ladies to giggle quietly behind his back.

*

Dr. Anthony Masen was tall, but not unusually so. Bella knew it was inappropriate to watch him as closely as she did, but he was a rare sight even in his own house, spending as much time as he did in his laboratory. He was thinking, searching for words, and Bella took the opportunity to admire his grey-threaded hair, slightly crooked nose — she liked to imagine it was a war wound from a youthful fistfight — and Cupid's bow lips, pursed as he struggled for a starting point.

When he cleared his throat, Bella's eyes snapped to her feet. She could feel the blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. She looked up again when he started to speak.

"As you all know, I have been working diligently in pursuit of a truly unique goal, and my research now necessitates some further assistance.

"I am taking on an assistant, a Mr. Edward Cullen, to assist me in my research. He is a most remarkable young man, and I expect him to be treated with the same respect shown to me. He will come and go mostly by the side door in my laboratory, but I intend to give him free run of the house as necessary."

After necessary questions from Mary Alice regarding meals and unnecessary placations from Mr. Whitlock regarding respect, Dr. Masen retired to his library and Mary Alice herded the girls back to the kitchen.

"I certainly wasn't expecting to hear him say that!" Mary Alice exclaimed. "But this could be a good thing. A very good thing, I suppose…"

"How?" Rosalie asked.

"Well, maybe having one of his peers around will make him a little more sociable, get him out the house again."

"You talk as though he were a very young man, Alice," Rosalie said. "A moody adolescent."

"Rose, when it comes to the ladies, I suspect that he is."

"What do you mean?" Bella asked. Two sets of eyes flashed to her.

Mary Alice shook her head. "I know you've not been here all that long, Bella, but I've been here for nearly twenty years, and not once in that time has a lady with _any_ romantic interest in the master ever even crossed the threshold."

"I find that hard to believe," Bella said. He was intelligent, good looking, refined. He had never been anything but kind and generous to Bella, showed her affection and interest she rarely received from her friends. She had never heard him say a bad word about anyone, let alone raise his voice, even when Rosalie broke an irreplaceable antique vase. Bella wondered how any woman could _not_ be interested in him.

Mary Alice opened her mouth to speak, but Mr. Whitlock marched in with the diamond-sharp precision of a military commander, staying any thoughts of mutiny in the ranks.

"What's this?" he demanded. "A mothers' meeting? Get back to work, ladies."

*

Bella had been fast asleep until she heard a scream.

She was a light sleeper and it woke her with a sprinting heart and stolen breath. She played the noise back in her mind. She couldn't discern who the sound belonged to, whether it was male or female, an adult or a child. All she knew was that it was human, in great pain, and utterly feral.

Then her nightmare came back to her. The stories of a child trampled in the street by a gentleman-madman had circled the table at dinner and were now circling her mind when it should have been at rest. In Bella's mind, she had been the child, screaming under the stomping foot of Dr. Masen's faceless new assistant.

Maybe that was where the nauseous, winded feeling came from.

Either way, she had to get up. She needed fresh air, and she needed to move. Careful not to wake Rosalie as she rose, Bella flinched when her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor, and then she crept into the corridor.

She took a turn about the house for fifteen minutes, maybe twenty at most. She ambled through corridor after corridor of crimson wallpaper and ebony shadows, not a single door with light on the other side. The whole house was bathed in darkness – when she passed a window at the end of the hall, there was only erratic light from outside, a wild cloudy night.

She was about to head back to bed when she saw a different kind of shadow at the end of the hall she was in. It was moving.

In the darkness, wandering without a candle and relying instead on sporadic moonlight and her now sufficiently adjusted eyes, Bella could only see a silhouette, a figure unlocking the door to the courtyard.

Squinting, she discerned the black shape from its grey surroundings, her every muscle, skin cell, nerve ending telling her to turn and run and not look back.

This creature was unusually tall, graceful, leonine. He moved effortlessly, sleek and powerful as the lion she immediately compared him to.

The king of predators.

And then he saw her.

With the moonlight at his back, Bella could see no detail of him beside his shadow, but she was fully illuminated — thin white nightgown, bare feet, wild hair.

She thought she heard him growl.

She ran.

She stumbled twice but didn't stop. Upstairs, tucked safely back in her bed, Bella squeezed her eyes tight shut and shuffled as close to Rosalie's back as she could, short of pressing her forehead into her friend's flesh.

Sleep didn't return, but then neither did he.

*

The next morning, the kitchen was abuzz with gossip about the terrifying Mr. Cullen.

"I saw him this morning, just as the sun was coming up! He frightened the life out of me, appeared completely out of nothing!" Mary Alice's hands were thrown into the air with every exclamation, the knife or rolling pin or vegetable she was holding soaring too. Emmett and Rosalie were giving her a wide berth and smothering their laughter.

Bella was closer, but not close enough that Mary Alice didn't have to ask her to repeat herself.

"I said, I saw him too." Bella was still quiet, carefully pushing the carrot forward under her knife as she chopped, obviously with practice.

"Then you know what I mean. Wasn't he just terrifying? I'd never been so frightened in my life, and not just because he startled me."

"Why?"

"Well, didn't you see his face? It was just so… so eerie. You'll know when you see it. But my, he looked an awful lot like our Dr. Masen did at that age…"

"You want to know what I think about that?" Emmett boomed, disregarding any need for subtlety or discretion. "I reckon our Mr. Cullen's the old doctor's bastard. Every man rich as that has to have 'ad a wild youth."

The telltale stomp of pristine shoes on the polished staircase made Mary Alice flutter her hands and the damp rag she was clutching, warning the others to separate and look busy.

No more was said of Emmett's theory.

*

"Bella? If you'd step in here for a moment. I'd like to have a word with you."

Bella had been walking past his study on her way to the kitchen. Her eyes flicked back over her shoulder and Dr. Masen laughed from the doorway he was hovering in.

"Don't worry about Whitlock. He won't bother us, and you'll be on your way in a moment. Just a word."

He held the door for her as she entered his study and closed it behind her.

"Yes, sir?" Bella said, standing in the center of the room.

Dr. Masen took a heavy breath and meandered across the carpet to the window. Looking out, he asked, "Did you hear anything strange last night?"

"Well, yes, sir. I heard a scream, about two o'clock, I imagine."

"Did you do anything in response?" he asked. His brow was furrowed. He was concentrating intently on something in the courtyard. His question seemed almost distracted. When Bella stepped carefully towards him, she could see what he did out the window: the glass pane in his laboratory door was broken.

"I went for a short walk, sir. Just around the house. I'm sorry, I won't do it again if…"

"No, there's no rule as to why you shouldn't, but it wouldn't be wise. It might be safer, for you and Miss Hale both, if you were to lock your door when you go to bed and not leave until morning. There's been someone evil wandering this town at night recently; as long as you're not out then, you'll be safe."

Bella nodded. "Of course, sir." She didn't mention that the lock didn't exactly work after Emmett spent many a night picking it to try and get to Rosalie back when they were still playing games.

"Good, good." He met her eye. "I just want to you be safe." He looked down at his hands, wringing them in front of him.

"I'll warn Rosalie too, sir."

His eyes snapped up and he hesitated, as if confused. Suddenly, he stood up straight and put his hands behind his back. "Oh, yes, yes, of course. Yes, of course."

"Was that all, sir?" Bella asked.

Dr. Masen shook his head and stepped around his desk, offering Bella the chair and perching on the edge of the desk. "No, stay a moment, please. Indulge me."

She sat, folding her hands in her lap and watching him. "Sir?"

"I was just wondering how you've been, Isabella. Do you like it here? I know you've been here a year, but it took me longer than that to be comfortable at my first job. Have you settled in well?"

"Erm… yes, sir. It's not my first job though, sir. I worked for another family for six years before I moved here."

"Yes, I remember. I hope we're as hospitable as the last family."

"Far more so, sir." She smiled.

The doctor smiled too. He leaned over and patted her hand. "I'm glad. You know where to find me if you have any problems."

"Thank you, sir."

He nodded. "You should get back to work before Whitlock has his head."

Standing, Bella smiled and moved for the door.

"And don't forget to lock your room at night," he said as Bella stepped into the hall.

"You too, sir," Bella said, smiling as she shut the door behind her. He was a wonderful employer, the closest thing she had to a friend while the other servants were effectively her family. She almost skipped back to the kitchen.

*

The next time Bella came across _him_, it was night again, and he was friendlier – as friendly as anyone had ever known him.

He blocked her path, arms outstretched to touch both walls of the hall, legs parted, and he grinned.

"Good evening." He leaned in close to speak. Bella resisted the urge to flinch; it would be unforgivably rude. "And who are you?" he asked.

Bella's eyes were on the floor, but she brought them up to his face at his words. She froze. Before, all she had seen were shadows in varying degrees of grey. Now, she could see his features.

As her eyes rose, they moved up over long legs and narrow hips to broad shoulders and a pallid, regal neck. He held his head like royalty, a trick Rosalie had told her about but her shyness battled off. Her gaze froze on his jaw, sharp as diamonds, defined to perfection, and then climbed to rose-red lips on his ice white face, almost unnatural, like blood on clean linen. The word bloodhound flashed through her mind, as much for the two halves of the word as its meaning, but she would wager he could track her like one from the way he leant in and inhaled. There was no escaping this man.

His head dipped, unfashionably wild hair casting his eyes in shadow before Bella could examine them, and the spell was broken so he could cast another one.

"Your name, my dear?" he asked, lips stretching to flash teeth in something approaching a smile.

"Bella." She pulled at her lip with her teeth.

"As in Isabella? Hmm, yes, the good doctor's told me all about you…"

He was like a lion, poised to pounce, edging towards her so that she took step after careful step backwards until they were at the top of the stairs. She clung to the banister with both hands while he leered at the top of her dress.

Bella took advantage of his distraction to scrutinise his face again. He was taller than Dr. Masen, leaner, but the doctor was comparatively an old man, perhaps twice Mr. Cullen's twenty-odd years. The younger man's face was sharp, each line a precipice for a blissful freefall, and something about its perfection was terrifying. Dr. Masen had obvious flaws; they were comforting. He was comforting. But maybe there were similarities between the pair. She couldn't see the colour of Mr. Cullen's eyes, but their shape was similar to the doctors', weren't they?

Then she caught herself comparing and wondered why. She hadn't agreed with Emmett's theory that this was his son, had she?

Mr. Cullen barked a sudden laugh and Bella took another step back, squealing when her foot descended further than she'd expected. She clung harder to the banister and winced at the loud creak. Mr. Cullen had stepped right up to the edge of the staircase and was smirking down from over two feet above her. She felt small.

"Isabella?" It was the butler, at the bottom of the stairs. "What are you—"

Bella turned and could see Mr. Whitlock's eyes on Mr. Cullen's. Glancing between her two tormentors, she could see Mr. Whitlock visibly wither under the younger man's glare. Bella dodged past Mr. Cullen and escaped.

*

Bella was still on edge the next day, and so she squeaked when the door to the library opened behind her as she was supposed to be dusting. Perhaps it was fear that Mr. Cullen had returned, or more that Dr. Masen – or, worse, Mr. Whitlock – would catch her with her fingers running over the pages of the book open at the desk under the window.

"Excuse me, Dr. Masen," Bella said, eyes on the ground when she realised it was him. "You startled me."

"My apologies, Isabella."

"Bella, please, sir."

"Bella." Only her friends called her Bella. It may have been small, but it was a victory. She smiled, despite being caught idle.

His eyes slid down the length of her long sleeve, then to her fingers, still pressed to the pages like a magnet to the great iron knocker on the door. With effort, Bella snatched her fingers back and held her hands behind her back. Dr. Masen looked back at her face.

"Mr. Cullen tells me you've met."

Bella gaped like a fish. "Erm… yes, sir. I suppose we did."

The doctor moved to inspect an ornament on the mantelpiece. "When I spoke to him this morning, he was telling me just how fond of you he was."

"We met just in passing, sir," Bella said, feeling obliged to reply but not knowing what to say.

"Yes, well. I see no reason at all why the two of you shouldn't be the very best of friends. Now, if you'll excuse me, Bella, I just came in for one book in particular…"

He plucked it from the shelves with no effort at all, a great red volume. He turned back to speak to her again, tome tucked under one arm, and Bella burned under his stare. "Please feel free to use the books if you please. They're there to be read."

"Oh no, sir, I couldn't. It's not my place."

"But it is mine to make the offer, and it stands regardless. What were you reading, Bella?"

"Nothing, sir. Just the book that was open on the desk. I'm sorry, I didn't want to touch anything."

"What on earth would you want to read that for?" He strode over and grabbed Bella's hand, leading her to the far wall. He ran his hand along one of the shelves, grinning at Bella with a raised eyebrow when there was dust on his fingers. "The book you were perusing is something I'm using for research. What the medicinal values of those various salts would mean to you, I don't know, but you should try these instead. I think you'd enjoy them more." He started to run his free fingers along the spines, murmuring titles to himself.

Bella stood stock still. While he had often been affectionate, he'd never deliberately touched her before, and certainly not for an extended period. She allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of his hand around hers just a little, even if her stomach and throat were tight and her gaze kept gravitating toward the door.

"Ah, this one," Dr. Masen said at last, squeezing her hand. He let go to pull the book out slowly and hand it to Bella. She ran her hands over the cover, brushing the dust away. "It was my mother's favourite. She tried to make me read it once, but I had little interest in fiction then. My old nurse used to tell anyone who would listen that I was _born_ a scientist, and much preferred my father's old medicine books to—"

He broke off, laughing. Bella looked up from the book, brow furrowed.

"I must be boring you half to death, and both of us have work to be doing." He took the book from her hand and moved back towards the desk. He set it on the mantelpiece above the fire. "I'll leave it here for you. You're welcome to take it with you later when you're done this afternoon, or on your way to bed this evening. Good afternoon, Bella."

Bella smiled at him as he left, and then cleaned with an unusual enthusiasm for the rest of the afternoon, paying special attention to the dusty fiction shelves.

*

The evening found Bella in the library again. She so wanted to take advantage of Dr. Masen's offer to read the books, especially the one he had picked out for her, but she ordinarily had such little time. She ran her fingers over the spines, ridges and embossed titles pressing back against her calloused fingertips, and just enjoyed the scent of the room. Even if she hadn't got the time to savour the words, she could savour the scene.

Bella took another book from the fiction shelf, hands palming the cold cover. Eyes closed, she tried to read the raised title with her fingers, but she only managed three letters.

She was not alone.

There were alien hands tight across her chest, teasing untouched flesh through her dress. Bella felt hot, rasping breath tickling her neck.

She shrieked, but it was muffled by a cold, white hand.

"Hello."

She knew that voice. Mr. Cullen spun her in his arms and pressed their hips together with a strong arm around her waist, leading her in a laughing, dizzying waltz. His white fingers didn't hold her hand, they gripped her wrist. It wasn't comfortable, but she wasn't worrying so much about bruises as where his other hand was drifting. She almost relaxed when it stilled at the last possible moment and traced back up her spine to rest somewhat respectably on her back.

Looking up, she saw his jaw as sharp as shattered glass, but she could see nothing else from tight under his chin. Three laps around the room and he released her waist but kept her wrist and pulled them crashing down into an armchair. His arms moved to retake her waist, creeping upwards again, and he bounced her on his knee.

"Ah, Isabella." Mr. Cullen licked his lips. Bella squirmed. "How about you and I head into town for the night? I can _guarantee_ you'll enjoy it." He smirked, eyes flashing. Facing the fire as they were, Bella would swear they flashed red.

She tried to pull herself free but his arms were looped and locked firmly around her middle. She pried at his arms, unable to imagine just how fast she'd lose her job if Mr. Whitlock walked in. Or Dr. Masen.

"Let me go," Bella pleaded. She didn't wish to sound weak, but willpower and her own force weren't setting her free.

He laughed.

"Please, Mr. Cullen."

He laughed again as she strained against his arms. He appeared fascinated by how Bella moved and she wasn't sure whether she was squirming more at his grip or his gaze. "Call me Edward," he said. "These stiff formalities don't leave much room for fun, do they?" He punctuated the word "fun" by digging his fingers into her hips.

She squeaked, and he was amused. When he laughed, Bella grew embarrassed and then belatedly indignant.

"Please sir, control yourself. Let go."

"I've never been much in favour of control, Isabella." His grip tightened; knowing her skin, she was sure she'd have bruises. "You should try letting go yourself sometime. It's so much more _fun_."

His demon eyes and lurid words, predator's features and cruel nonchalance, combined with the doctor's questions a few days ago – they clicked together in Bella's mind, and her own control lapsed long enough to blurt her question.

"Are you responsible for all those murders?"

The bouncing ceased, and Edward laughed. She felt her body burn at his laughter, fire creeping out from her heart, up her neck and over her face.

"Responsible is such a… _hateful_ word. No, I'd say the responsibility lies somewhere else entirely. I was here, with the good doctor in his laboratory, not at any one of the crime scenes. And they'll take his word for it, you can be sure of that…"

Bella wanted to be ill and she wanted to slap him, but he had started to do unholy things with his hands that made her want to stay right where she was. She wanted to be three score miles away by sunrise, but also to wrap herself around him and stay right there in his power. There was something of the supernatural about him, she was sure, something irrational and bewitching. It was more than just charisma and beauty. She couldn't comprehend it.

"But you don't need to worry about that, my dear. You're perfectly safe." Some of Bella's hair had fallen loose in her struggle, and his voice grew softer as he stroked it behind her ear with one hand, face at the crook of her neck. "You seem to still the rage."

Bella wanted to ask why. She wanted him to stop talking and let her go. She wanted him to stop talking and do more of whatever he was doing earlier, but he'd stopped now.

"Are… are you…" She strained her neck away from his lips and the open-mouthed kisses he was pressing against her skin, trying to regain her coherency. "Are you Dr. Masen's son?"

Edward's laugh was hearty and loud against her shoulder and Bella was rocked with it. The motion only added to her nausea.

"I suppose one could argue that," Edward said, considering. "But it's not like your dear doctor to go around fathering bastards, is it?"

He stood, hands still on Bella's waist, and she slid off his lap, stumbling to her feet. "We'll see each other again soon, Isabella."

With another coarse laugh and a slap to her derrière, Edward sent Bella on her way. She forgot to take the novel from the mantelpiece.

*

A few mornings later, Bella took Dr. Masen's breakfast to him.

She wished him a good morning, opened the curtains and set the tray down beside his bed. By now, Dr. Masen had sat up and was watching Bella work.

Then the unthinkable happened. She saw it as it occurred, but was powerless to stop it. She set the tray down, bending at the elbow to slide it into place, and her sleeve rolled up, ever so slightly, hinting at the bruises creeping over her skin like poison ivy.

Dr. Masen's eyes locked with Bella's. He snatched her wrist as soon as the tray was secure, pushing the sleeve up to Bella's elbow.

Bella noted that his fingers were icy, as though he'd recently been out in the freezing cold, even though the room was relatively warm.

He wrapped his hand around her wrist, just about covering the bruises, at first just stroking them, soothing them with the chill, but then they stilled. He adjusted his hand ever so slightly, lifting his hand and her arm into the daylight, and stilled completely.

His fingers were a near-perfect match for the marks on her arm. When their eyes locked again, both pairs were wide. Bella pulled her arm away, murmuring an apology, and turned back to his breakfast, hands shaking and knocking the crockery together.

Dr. Masen, however, appeared as calm as the morning outside. "Bella," he said, his voice quiet but even. "Tell me how you got those bruises."

Bella stuttered. "I-I…" She searched for a reason, a lie, anything. "I tripped in the kitchen, wasn't watching where I was going. Emmett was right there, caught me by the wrists. I guess that was it."

"Hmmm," he said, and his eyes glazed over. "That's enough, Isabella, thank you," he said, not looking at her again. He was staring at his own hands in his lap, turning them over, examining them. He'd done that before. Bella wondered why. "You can go now."

*

London was far from a dreamscape in the early morning, in Bella's eyes. It was painted in swirling shades of grey with blocks of brown and highlights of black, and she matched the scene with her mood. She trudged, head down but eyes alert.

Still, her eyes didn't catch the shadow that sprinted up beside her, wrapped a strong arm around her waist from behind, and pulled her soundlessly into an adjacent alley.

Left arm still unnecessarily around her waist and free palm pressed over her mouth, Edward Cullen smirked down at her.

"Good morning, Isabella. You're out early."

He warned her with blazing eyes not to do anything untoward, and then moved his palm from her mouth, taking one of her hands and pressing it to the wall in his. His hands were cold.

"Mrs. Brandon sent me to fetch some things," she said, pulling her wrist free, but her waist remained trapped.

"Well, this is a rather fortunate encounter for me," Edward said. "You see, I've done something really rather bad, and now I must make my escape."

"What? What have you done?"

Edward grinned. As ever, it was more a leer than a smile, and his perfect teeth, sharp, symmetrical and ice-white, were more unnerving than attractive. "I suppose you'll never see me again," he mused. "A shame. Well…"

He laughed, one more time, and Bella was more nervous of him now than ever. Instinct told her to move, to do anything to escape, especially with the way his face was moving closer.

And then his lips were rough over hers, hands gripping her waist and helping his hips pin her to the wall. When she was secure, his lips still battling hers, he moved his hands to her face and gripped it tight, pushing his tongue into her mouth.

Bella pressed her hands against his chest, but it was half-hearted. She wouldn't have been so nervous, she thought, if it were someone else. Another face flashed through her mind with no obvious reason to her

Eventually, he pulled away with wide, newly bright eyes, and a smirk stretching from one superlative cheekbone to another.

He vanished without another word.

Bella was left panting against the wall. She knew she could not stay there a moment longer, but the kiss had left her stunned. Of three things she was absolutely certain: Edward Cullen was transcendentally beautiful, unspeakably dangerous, and he wanted her.

The feeling was inexplicably mutual.

*

Bella heard the doorbell and her stomach clenched. She had been on edge all day. After running into Edward in that alley, she hurried home at twice her usual speed — even Mr. Whitlock praised her efficiency that morning — and did everything she could do to distract herself from just how stupid she had been. She had let him kiss her. She hadn't called the authorities or at the very least told Dr. Masen. She should have done that.

Bella was avoiding the doctor.

But when the doorbell rang, there was more than one person admitted and Mr. Whitlock was seemingly even more polite than usual. Bella crept closer while cleaning and listened from just behind the door. Mr. Whitlock offered to send for one of the maids to fetch Dr. Masen but the police officers said that that was not necessary. It was one of the housemaids they would like to speak to first.

A Miss Isabella Swan.

She could almost hear the colour drain from Mr. Whitlock's face, quickly replaced with crimson indignation. She was quick, scurrying back down the corridor and into another room, looking hard at work and pretending she hadn't heard everything that had just been said. Rationally, Bella knew that Mr. Whitlock couldn't hear her pounding heart, but that didn't stop it from pounding harder from the added worry.

How obvious would it be that she was guilty?

In fact, how guilty was she?

Mr. Whitlock summoned her with a movement of his hand only and conducted her, head down as ever, into the parlour.

"You are the housemaid, Isabella Swan?"

Bella looked up. The constable speaking to her had his lips set in a grave line, hat held at his side, and his eyebrows were sloped downwards and together. What could Edward have done that was so grave? So awful?

But she already knew Edward's soul. He was not a good man. He could have done anything.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions relating to the death of the respected Dr. Carlisle. Did you know him?"

Bella's mouth fell agape. She stumbled for her words, mouth opening and closing. She certainly knew _of_ him. "No, I did not."

"But, as I understand it, he used to be a frequent guest of Dr. Masen's for dinner."

Her mouth opened and closed again, her face blushed florid, and she very nearly buckled to the floor before Mr. Whitlock spoke.

"Miss Swan is the most recently engaged member of the household staff. I don't believe Dr. Carlisle has dined here since she joined us."

The constable nodded to the butler, then returned his attention to Bella, who nearly withered under his stare.

"And when was the last time you saw Mr. Edward Cullen?"

Bella floundered for a third time. "I... I don't know, sir." And then she caught herself. What on earth possessed her to lie? She had no answer.

"Any time in the last twenty-four hours?" the constable asked, and Bella automatically shook her head.

"No, sir."

The constable scrutinised her face for a long moment but eventually directed his attention back to Mr. Whitlock. "We'd like to search Dr. Masen's laboratory, if you please."

Mr. Whitlock nodded again, ever deferent. "Certainly, sir. If you'll follow me. The doctor isn't home to show you around himself, I'm afraid."

"Yes he is," Bella said, eyes on the window on the far side of the room. Dr. Masen was hurrying, bedraggled, across the courtyard from his laboratory to his office, and he let himself in through the door to the kitchen. A moment later, he was with them.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" he asked.

*

Later, after all her tasks were done for the day, all made that much more painful by the looks jabbed at her by the other staff, Bella went up to the library, hoping to find Dr. Masen there. Her chest felt as though it was made of lead — ribs, lungs, heart — and she needed somebody's assistance in carrying the load. Unfortunately, there was nobody else she could trust, and she knew she should have told him much earlier.

Dr. Masen was sitting in the same armchair she had sat upon Edward's lap in, and she couldn't look at him without blushing the same crimson as the carpet at the memory. "I was expecting you, Bella," he said, sipping from the glass at his side.

Bella closed the door gently and stood just inside. She didn't lean on it at all, even though she desperately wanted to, but she did grasp the handle, relishing the cold metal against her palm. At least having her hands behind her back kept the fading marks hidden.

"I... I just thought..."

"Sit down, Bella. We won't be interrupted tonight."

Bella slinked forward, missing the strength of the oak door as she moved across the open carpet. She perched on the edge of the second armchair's seat, hands folded in her lap, trying to keep them from wringing together. Dr. Masen gestured to offer her a drink and Bella politely declined. As nice as the temporary numbness would be, reaching out would mean showing him her hands, and she was keeping them well-covered under the sleeves of her dress.

"No thank you, sir."

"So, what did you want to speak to me about?"

Bella laced her fingers in her lap and kept her eyes on their constant movement. "I…" She took a deep breath, then looked up at her employer. "It was Mr. Cullen, sir, that… that did it. He told me so himself. Well, he implied it. You need to cut all ties with him while you still can. He's a dangerous man. I mean, he… he killed Dr. Carlisle, and he was a scoundrel to me in this very room, and… and…"

"Bella," he said quietly. When Bella stopped suddenly, not knowing where she was going with that sentence anyway, he set down his glass and leaned forward in the chair. "Do you mean to tell me that you _lied_ to the officers today?"

Bella couldn't look at him. Her answer was barely a squeak. "Yes, sir."

She expected her doctor to explode; his quiet reaction was more painful, a whimper where a bang was deserved. "I never imagined you a fool, Isabella."

It stung that he had reverted to the use of her full name. "Pardon, sir?"

His voice grew louder, but not enough to be heard outside the room. "You realise that you're now guilty as well? In a crime as serious as Mr. Cullen's, by not immediately confessing all that you know, you're an accessory to murder. You could well be following him to the gallows if they find out."

The stinging sensation flooded to her eyes. She wanted to answer, but couldn't.

"No, this is most disappointing," Dr. Masen said, leaning back again to consider his next question, picking up his drink again and swilling it in the crystal glass. He sipped then asked, "What exactly has he done for you to make you willing to risk your life for his?"

He didn't expect an answer, but the implications of his question were another wound in Bella's back. It was a long silence, Dr. Masen's eyes glazed but fixed to the ceiling and Bella wanting to enjoy the soft burn of the fire on her face as she stared into the flames.

At long last, Dr. Masen ran his palm over his face and spoke. "Things will be fine now, Bella. He won't be back, I can promise you that."

"How do you know, sir? Have you cut him off?"

"My Bella…" He reached out, taking one of her hands from her lap. "Edward and I… Mr. Cullen and I… we are inextricably bound. There is no way to separate us, but one can attempt to control him, to make him abide by another's – my – will. It will not be easy, but for you I will try. I will do everything in my power to make you safe again."

He squeezed her hand and let it go, slumping back in his chair. "Yes, Bella. I'll make you safe, with my very last breath if need be."

Bella wanted to run away, just like Edward. This was all too big. She wanted to run through the streets and out of the city and to just disappear in the countryside. Maybe she'd go back to the Lakes, where her family was from, or to Scotland, so many unfathomable miles away from here. For now, just being out of the room would suffice.

"Goodnight, sir," she said, standing.

His voice was lugubrious and absent-sounding. "Goodnight, my Bella."

*

Breakfast the next morning was tense, silent. Bella knocked, entered. She neglected to offer her customary "good morning". When she put the tray down for a moment on the cabinet, she moved to open the curtains with her head down, not looking at the figure in the bed. With a brisk tug, the curtains parted and she squinted in the too-bright light.

It only made it easier not to look at him when she was temporarily blinded.

She served the breakfast, still wordlessly, but she could feel Dr. Masen's gaze flicker over every inch of her face.

She felt his eyes burning her once-marked wrists as she worked, but he didn't ask and she didn't volunteer the information. She just wanted to get out of there and back to the kitchen, where her worries extended as far as Mr. Whitlock's spontaneous interventions and Mary Alice's gossip. She didn't have to concern herself with how the master she adored had charged himself with protecting her from his own assistant at grave risk to himself.

As she went to leave, the doctor got up and blocked her path. He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. "You won't see him again, I promise. I may have been drinking but I meant what I said last night, about keeping you safe."

Bella laid her free hand on top of their entwined fingers and stared at him as he added his other hand as a final layer. He was so close, intently examining her face; there were only a few short inches between them. Both were completely still except for Dr. Masen's hands rubbing warmth into Bella's.

Neither spoke and neither moved. Bella didn't know where to look. She fought to keep her eyes from flickering to his lips or down to his body in his nightclothes, but she couldn't look away without being rude or into his eyes without seeing something she really shouldn't see.

The doctor had no such qualms about staring. He freed one hand and pressed his palm against Bella's cheek, moving infinitesimally closer, but still neither uttered a word. Bella closed her eyes.

A moment later, they heard footsteps on the staircase outside, Bella excused herself with a phantom smile and slipped into the corridor. She had too much to think about.

*

Bella couldn't avoid Dr. Masen forever. She did need to retrieve that tray, after all.

Steeling herself, she trudged determined up the stairs, but froze at the end of the hall. There was a crash from the doctor's bedroom, and then silence. Hurrying closer, she could hear Dr. Masen, but nobody else. Who was he talking to? Who did he _have_ in there?

"You will not touch her." Each word was clear, as sharp and precise as every individual note from a recently-tuned piano. "She is not yours."

Bella crept closer.

"No." Another crash, a louder echo. "No!"

Standing in front of the door, Bella looked left and right, listened for footsteps. There was nothing. As she stooped to peer through the keyhole, she heard Dr. Masen again.

"You will not. I will not allow it!"

Bella pressed her eye against the lock. She could see just a fraction of the room, but enough. Dr. Masen, still in his nightshirt, had his back to her, stooped in front of the mirror of his cabinet, hands tense, white, gripping the edge of the wood.

He was talking to himself.

He keeled over and out of sight behind his bed without warning. Bella inhaled sharply, wanting to cry for help but having no way of explaining how she knew what she did. How could she possibly tell Mr. Whitlock she'd been peering through the master's keyhole, and saw him collapse?

Before she could make any kind of decision, a white hand gripped the cover of the bed and Dr. Masen started to haul himself to his feet. Except it wasn't Dr. Masen.

It was Edward Cullen, and his eyes were fixed firmly on the door.

His natural leer-cum-smirk was plastered across his face, but the intensity of his eyes made her flesh burn. She knew he knew she was there.

Eyes fixed in her direction, Edward undressed, ever so slowly, and Bella was transfixed. She couldn't look away. She had never seen a man without clothes before, but she was sure Edward was more beautiful than any other specimen in London, or even in England.

But when he bared more teeth and reached down to touch himself, Bella remembered herself. When he started walking towards the door, she blinked, forced herself to think clearly, and fled back to the busy kitchen.

*

Bella lay in bed alone that night, thinking about the murdered Dr. Carlisle's widow. Mary Alice had been talking about her with Rosalie that afternoon in the kitchen, her distress and depression. Bella wondered what it would be like to be married, to share her life with a man, but found her imaginings interrupted by the realisation that she knew nobody suitable, and wasn't in the position to meet anyone.

But she was happy, wasn't she?

Rosalie wasn't with her that night. Recently, she had been creeping to Emmett's bed when her body allowed, and Bella found herself appreciating the privacy but not the vulnerability of sleeping alone, especially knowing that Edward could be out there somewhere.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to squash the image with her eyelids, pressing her face into her pillow as she lay on her stomach. She could remember with perfect detail, as clear as the crystal decanter in Dr. Masen's cabinet. He had moved earlier as if he was performing for her, and she didn't like how she felt.

She had been so sure that the man shouting was Dr. Masen, but then when he stood, she saw his face clear as day, and it was definitely—

Edward?

She nearly screamed into her pillow. He was on her back, his weight pinning her to the bed, the length of his body perfectly aligned with hers, but with the covers between them. She could feel his breath on her neck and his chuckle vibrate against her ear. Too close, too loud, but so soft. There was something else against her thigh and she stretched her leg against it. She shivered.

"Boo," he murmured, stroking a stray lock of hair back and licking his lips, mouth just an inch from her cheek, nose skimming her ear.

Bella couldn't speak. Her heart was pounding and her instincts were confused – she knew she should want desperately to flee, but everything else was telling her to stay right where she was, in his control. It would be worth it.

His hands kneaded into her shoulders, his lips burning down her cheek to the base of her neck. His hands drifted south too, over the sides of her chest and down to her waist. He tickled.

Bella barely contained her shriek.

She writhed underneath him, trying to break free. It only resulted in him shifting his weight to his knees and straddling her, hands pinning her flailing wrists to the sheet.

"Isabella…" he said, leaning his face down to hers and brushing his nose along her cheek. He was smiling; she could feel it in the taut muscles of his face, the shape of his lips. "You don't want to anger me, do you?"

There were no words.

"Well," he said, "I suppose you already tried that – angering me, I mean, whether you know it or not. And when I'm like this, I'm by far the more powerful one compared to your good doctor."

"What are you talking about, Edward?"

"You know," he said, ducking his head and this time licking her other cheek, using only the very tip of his tongue. She shivered, again. "Forbidden pleasures are by far the most… tempting."

"What?" Bella rasped. "What are you doing, Edward?"

He chuckled again. Bella suspected it pleased him, having such absolute control. She couldn't even see him, couldn't read the expression on his face or conjecture on his expectations.

"I, my dear Isabella, am doing exactly what the doctor told me not to do. Well, not quite. It's a little confusing, actually…"

Bella was tired of his circumlocution and tried to roll over. She turned her face to the side so her words weren't lost to the linen.

"Let me go or I'll scream."

"Oh, you'll scream, Isabella, whether I let you loose or not." At this angle, when he ducked his head and she strained her eyes, she could make out his irascible smirk. "That's a promise. And it won't be the kind of screaming you're used to."

"Edward," she tried, pulling her wrist away again. "Just let me turn over. Let me see you."

This, he acquiesced to.

Keeping his knees on either side of her hips, he released her wrists and helped her roll over. Then he took her wrists back into his grip.

"You know, you're going to be the death of us both," Edward said, lowering his head to hers and inhaling at her neck. She felt something hot and wet trail up her flesh and pause at her pulse point — his tongue again. Why did he keep licking her? She shivered, questioning her own reaction. She… liked it.

She knew she shouldn't.

His lips moved lower and slowly, ever so slowly, he released her wrists and inched his hands towards the dainty little buttons on the front of her nightdress. He'd popped three open, his lips hovering at her collarbone, before Bella's head took the reins back from whatever else had been in control and pressed at his chest. Hard.

Edward pulled away, momentarily startled, but then that too-familiar smirk spread like a plague across his face and he licked his lips. "I'm sorry," he said. "I was under the impression that you'd invited me here…"

"No," Bella said, pushing at his chest again. She tried not to think about how it felt under her fingers through his thin shirt, but she wanted to explore. "I don't remember that. What are you doing here?"

"Isabella." He dropped a little more of his weight onto her, laying along her body now rather than just straddling it. "I could feel your eyes on me earlier. You invited me…"

"No. Well, maybe… I don't know."

"Don't lie to me, Isabella…"

"Who _are_ you, Edward?"

"Right now, I am the man in your head, the man in your heart, and the man in your bed… whether you realise all of those or not. You don't even realise you're in love, and no, I know it's not me."

"What?" Bella said again. She didn't understand. Everything she had seen or heard so far seemed to contradict something else. Everything was so grey; she missed her world painted in black and white. "Stop talking in riddles, Edward. Give me answers."

"You don't want answers, my Bella. You want something else. You just don't know what it is yet."

"Edward…"

Whatever that was that he was doing, it felt nice – too nice – but he wasn't listening to her.

"Shhh, Bella. All in good time. I have a promise to fulfil, remember? To make you scream?"

"Edward, we shouldn't." She couldn't put the conviction into her words. Her heart was beating at immeasurable speed, almost in protest of her protest.

"Oh, shouldn't we?"

"What are you, Edward?" She had to know.

"I am… evil."

Bella swallowed hard. She believed him, but she couldn't banish him. _God_, his hands. What would the harm be in giving in? Just once. Nobody would ever have to know. She needed his hands. "And… and is evil stronger than good?"

Edward smirked. "You tell me." His fingers moved back to the buttons of her nightdress. "No more talking."

That was acceptable to her.

It felt so _good._

When his hands crept again down her flesh, drawing sounds from Bella she'd never made before in her life, she found herself imagining those long fingers were her doctor's fingers, skilled from a lifetime of delicate work. The only reminder that that wasn't the man on top of her was that his hands trailed burning ice in circles across her body. His hands weren't warm like the doctor's usually were. Then they reached her breasts and her thoughts were only for his touch. In that instant, the rest of the world ceased to matter.

As Edward moved down her body, Bella's hands found their way to his back, running over the muscles and feeling them move as he did. When his lips wrapped around her nipple, she arched her back and her fingers laced themselves into his hair, long and thick and softer than she had expected.

Just when she could think clearly again – one brief, effervescent thought about how this was better than even Rosalie had described – he moved to her other breast and the words fizzled into individual sounds that didn't quite make sense.

Then he moved down her body again, sweeping hot open-mouthed kisses over her stomach and down to her lower thighs, up their insides. He wouldn't...

Lips and teeth and tongue teased at sensitive flesh. Bella's back arched and her hips strained as she tried to get closer and closer and, oh, God, it was so good. The tension coiled in the pit of her stomach and it was a sensation completely foreign, constricting tighter and tighter until she let out a shout.

Warmth shot from the centre of her body out through her limbs and into her fingers and toes. Melting back into the mattress, breathing heavily, Bella let out a single breathless laugh.

"What… what was that?"

Edward slid up her body so they were face-to-face. He licked his lips. "Want me to do that again?"

Bella didn't answer, but her eyes drifted closed and her mouth curved into a smile. Edward took that as a yes and grinned in return.

"Now, this one might hurt a little, so you'll have to trust me."

Wordless, breathless, Bella nodded her consent. Her intuition was telling her that no matter how dangerous this man was in the real world, in this little bubble, he was too much of her doctor to hurt her.

Pressing his lips to hers for the first time since the alley, Edward moved himself into position over Bella and pushed into her, slowly at first.

Bella's hands wrapped around his biceps, squeezing and wincing at the stabbing sensation between her thighs. Edward absorbed her hiss with his lips, holding still until her tension faded.

Bella could feel Edward's earlier fury and force fade, although the passion remained, and he was gentle instead. It was as though he were temporarily a different man entirely.

As he moved in her, Bella's hands tried to find purchase on Edward's back, slick and constantly in motion, and the slide of her flesh over his was akin to the slipping away of her thoughts before they gained a modicum of coherence. She felt herself growing hotter and hotter, burning from the inside out, and then something inside her burst and she really was screaming, just for a moment before Edward pressed his hand over her mouth and laughed into her shoulder. He was still thrusting, but harder and less rhythmically. The gentleness was gone; he was himself again.

Bella melted into the mattress, eyes closed and imagining another man as her senses returned to her. A few moments later, Edward groaned, stilled, bit down on Bella's neck and found his own release. After a few seconds of stillness and heavy breathing juxtaposed with the silent night, Edward rolled off Bella and to her side, laughing again.

Still cackling, he clambered out of bed.

As Edward was re-dressing, Bella clutched the sheet to her chest. Already, unbelievable as it had been, she regretted it. It was awkward to do so now, but she had to ask.

"Edward… are you… are you and Dr. Masen the same man?"

Edward's hands stilled in turning his shirt the right way out again. "I am the bandit. He is merely the cave in which I shelter."

"You're talking in riddles again."

"He loves you, you know?" Edward said. "The doctor. I think that's why I can't stay away from you. I am everything he wishes he could do but has too much 'control' to let himself." He carried on dressing as he spoke. Bella felt hope shine in her chest, but it was a fleeting moment. Everything but the uncharacteristic gravity in his tone pointed to him teasing. "I am everything he wishes he could be. I am younger, more attractive, less restrained, more free. I don't concern myself with the trifles of reputation or morality or law. The things the doctor has been able to do as me… He could never have imagined them in his wildest, darkest moments in his life. For me, however, this is the norm…"

Fully dressed, he picked up his boots from just inside the door. "I'll see you soon, my Isabella." He smirked again, one eyebrow quirked upwards. "Sleep well."

Bella was almost sorry to see him go; she would have been if it had taken her more than twenty seconds to fall asleep.

*

"Dr. Masen wants to see you."

Mr. Whitlock moved like the wind too, almost as scary as Mr. Cullen himself, but Bella had been trying not to think about him. She had been half-convinced of her success until the butler delivered the summons and her thoughts flew instantly in that scoundrel's direction.

"What are you waiting for, girl? Hurry!"

Dropping the rag and drying her hands on her apron, Bella hurried past Mr. Whitlock and through the hall, head down and feet fast. She knew the doctor's routine almost as well as her own – he would be in the study.

She knocked once, polite and necessary, and let herself in at his word: "Come." Bella felt her cheeks flood crimson and stepped inside with her lip tugged firmly between her teeth.

She would not look at him.

"Isabella."

His voice was cold, flat. Bella's eyes snapped to his and she realised the sight was a perfect echo of his sound. Her gaze fell again, taking in every escape route and looking at everything but him. He was looking at her.

"What's that mark on your neck?" he asked, standing.

Bella couldn't lie. Her fingers pressed against it instinctively at his question; a bruise, teeth marks.

"It's from him, isn't it?"

Bella didn't answer. She felt nauseous and guilty when he roused the memory of the previous night. She couldn't be sure that it wasn't what she had done with Edward that revolted her as much as how she had betrayed her doctor. But then, had she betrayed him? She had been so sure Edward and Dr. Masen were two different people, but what she saw yesterday, in his bedroom...

Nothing made sense any more; she didn't know who or what to trust.

The doctor stepped forward, reaching out. Bella tried to step away but the room wasn't that large with every wall lined with bookcases. Three steps backward and she had no escape route. The doctor took her hand and pushed up the sleeve. He ran his hands over the bruises, purple against her wrists, lighter and fading further up her arm. His hands were warm, almost hot, where Edward's had been so cold.

She scrunched her eyes shut as he leaned in to examine the marks. "He's… he's like a disease. A fever."

"Indeed." Dr. Masen's grip on her arm tightened.

"No, no, not like that. I mean, he gets under your skin, confuses you. There's nothing you can do but wait him out, let his mood run his course and fade away."

"Men like Edward Cullen do not 'fade away'." He dropped her hand. It sank through the air like a stone and swung into the wood of the bookcase behind her. It hurt, but the only movement she made was a brief flexing of her fingers.

"Isabella… Bella… What are we going to do now?" Dr. Masen turned away, walked back towards his desk.

It felt as though someone was running her heart and stomach back and forth through the mangle. Bella swallowed, then spoke, and didn't stop speaking. She had to make him understand. "Oh, sir, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, and I was confused, and I didn't know what to do, and he was there, and he was... he did... and I'm sorry. I… I'll just get my things and go. I… I'll go. I'm sorry. I—"

"Quiet, Bella," he snapped.

She fell silent, but her hands still wrung together in front of her and her eyes burned as though it were acid welling up, not just tears.

"I understand," he said. That seized her attention. She glanced up at his profile. He was staring out the window, as if looking for a carriage, but his eyes were glazed. She blinked her tears away to see him better. "I understand entirely how dangerous Mr. Cullen is, how seductive in every comprehensible way. You have nothing to fear from me there." But even if he forgave her, she would still have to go. That was just how things were.

His fingers were running over the newspaper on his desk. Bella stepped closer and saw another article on the murder of Dr. Carlisle and the absent, vicious Mr. Cullen. She blushed deeper when he turned, grabbing her arm again. His eyes were dark and focussing on anything but her.

"Come with me."

Pausing at the door to check the hall was clear, Dr. Masen dragged Bella down to his laboratory. He locked the door behind them and pulled a table in the way to keep the world out. He led Bella down to his cabinet behind him. She stumbled down the steps after him, repeating again and again that she was sorry. Her eyes stung and she stumbled frequently as the world blurred and she failed to notice obvious obstacles. His silence as they descended only increased her dread, and she sobbed once sharply as they neared their destination.

"Isabella, I am not angry… not with you. More with myself."

She was panicking too much, too busy trying to maintain a modicum of dignity, to think to ask him why.

He paused in front of the cabinet and released her hand. With one final look, commanding her to stay still, he opened the cabinet and started pulling out flasks and bottles and jars with shaking hands and no method to his madness, as far as Bella could tell. She was absorbed, watching him work. One hand rubbed her bruised wrist, and this made her think of both Edward and her doctor.

His hands trembled harder and harder as he worked; the haste with which he pulled free delicate containers – powders, liquids, salts, crystals – made Bella nervous. Soon, she couldn't stand it. The racketing clink of glass on glass was too great a shuddering crescendo lapping over his mutterings.

"S-sir," Bella stuttered. "Your hands are shaking."

She reached for his hand to examine it, but Dr. Masen intercepted her and held their hands down at his side, twisting their fingers together. This was small comfort to Bella, but she felt some relief that he wasn't utterly disgusted with her and her actions. She wrapped her other hand around their fingers and clung to him. She was frightened.

Dr. Masen kept working with just one hand.

"I know you know by now that my assistant and I are the same person. He is my second self, and I researched for m-many years to lure that personality to the forefront. A pharmacist sent me a salt that was essential to the draught, and I have been trying so hard to synthesise a cure as Cullen becomes stronger and stronger. You saw, yesterday morning, how easily he can overthrow my control now and become me. I fear I will soon be completely lost."

"No…" Bella's voice was a low whisper. The doctor squeezed her hand and continued his explanation as he dripped a little of a clear liquid into a vial in a rack.

"But can you imagine the _freedom_? Being one man with two identities, so distinct that if it weren't for our mutual human needs, there would be no obvious connection between us… It was the greatest liberty imaginable. I'm an old man, my Bella, and through Cullen I could be young again – I stayed out until dawn, I did things most respectable men would never even consider."

His hands were shaking so hard again that he dropped a glass container with a curse. He released Bella's hand but they collided again as both went to clean up the mess. This was all her fault; he wouldn't have been so agitated if she hadn't…

She had to do something, had to help.

"No," he said. "It's corrosive. Don't."

Bella pulled her hand back slowly, rubbing the other bruised wrist this time as he deftly cleaned up the mess and carried on. Breathing deeply, his hands seemed steadier now.

"_I_, as in Anthony, wasn't conscious as _he_, I mean Edward, committed the murders. It was like… I was asleep. I had memories, certainly, but they were vague. They only became clearer recently, in the last month or so, as I spent more time as him and less as myself."

He dropped another flask, but this time it was close enough to the desk not to shatter. Bella flinched at the sound; she was so on edge that even the crystal clinking of glass sounded like the centre of London at the busiest time of day.

"You remember I said I'd like for you two to be friends?" Dr. Masen asked.

He waited for Bella to nod.

"That was when I first realised he had clear memories of my time as me, probably clearer than mine of him. He knew you, and… and what I felt for you, and I was concerned. But, at the same time, it presented such an irresistible opportunity. I could get to know you as him in a way I never could myself. I knew his intentions to seek you out… I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe, wrong as it was – and my moral compass was facing firmly south at the time – I just… wanted you."

Bella took a small step back. She was sure it wasn't from revulsion – fear, uncertainty perhaps? Why was he telling her this? She supposed she knew it, but why was he saying it aloud? This was the sort of thing that should never be said.

"I never thought he would hurt you."

"I know." She did; from the first time they met, he had been unfailingly kind, almost too gentle.

"I thought maybe he just didn't know his own strength. He was, in a sense, a newborn, new to that body, and we were the same person. I thought you knew that, too."

Bella swallowed hard, again. The panic was rising again, and the waves were about to crash right over the dam and flood everything. She wanted to calm him and, in turn, herself. "How could _anyone_ know that? You two… you are nothing alike."

"Aren't we?"

"No, you're not. I promise you, sir. There is nothing of him in you, nor you in him."

"Not that you can see."

The flask he was working with was fuller now. Dr. Masen was putting most of the used chemicals back into the cabinet. When the space was clear except for the solution he had just concocted, he turned back to Bella and took both her hands.

In the harsh light of the laboratory in the morning, white light flooding in through large, high windows, Bella noticed for the first time how truly old he looked – decades older than she remembered, almost decrepit. His hair was nearly truly white in here, the crinkles around his eyes deeper and crawling across his skin at greater length.

"I pushed you two together _because_ we were the same person. I… I had loved you, almost since the day you came." There was something in her chest, next to her heart, that expanded and made her breath more difficult. She kept her eyes on his; she couldn't look away. "You seemed so out of place and so perfect at the same time, standing in my library reading about medicine and biochemistry from a tome I wouldn't have expected Whitlock to want to read, let alone the new housemaid. I loved you, but I couldn't have you. It was wrong, but not so wrong for Cullen with his lack of inhibition… and I thought you knew, the way you looked at me sometimes."

"Nobody could have known," she whispered.

He shook his head, squeezing her hand.

"You asked him if evil were stronger than good," he said.

"Yes."

"And he said yes, didn't he? That he was stronger than I am."

"I don't believe him."

"I do, my Bella. He _is_ stronger than me – he can overpower me and push my consciousness from my mind at will. You can attest that he is physically stronger than I am. He is emotionally more steadfast than me – he isn't moved by guilt or despair for his own actions, yet I am reduced to tears on occasion for his. But I have one thing he doesn't."

"What's that?"

"Control. In all its forms."

He drained the chemical cocktail from the flask before Bella could even shout, let alone stop him. Hissing as he flung the flask aside, shattering it against a wall, he groaned his way to the bench in the centre of the laboratory and hauled himself up onto the table, writhing.

"Sir, w-what..?"

"Poison, my Bella."

Bella couldn't respond. The idea didn't make sense; this was not what she was expecting. She was torn between running for help and begging for the method to make an antidote.

The doctor rolled onto his side, drawing his knees towards his chest and curving his spine, and forced his eyes to lock on to Bella's.

"I'm sorry," he gasped after a brief coughing fit. "It's the only way I can protect you. Protect everyone."

Bella shook her head, swallowing, breathing heavily. She wanted to run again, to fetch help. She could not let him die. Her eyes flickered to the door. She had to stop this. This was madness. How could she stop this?

"Stay," he pleaded, gripping Bella's hand in a lunge from the table. "There's nothing you can do." He tugged with all the force he could muster, rolling onto his back. It wasn't a lot, but Bella stumbled forward anyway. When she was right alongside the table, Dr. Masen tried to lift his head, but could not rise nearly close enough. Bella, reading his intent, leaned down and pressed her lips softly to his forehead.

It wasn't what he wanted; she knew it, but she couldn't really kiss him, could she?

"My Bella…"

She pulled away to see his eyes were closed and the ghost of a sad smile floated across his pale lips. She blinked back the tears blurring her sight and pressed her hand to his cheek. It was clammy and scratchy, but the smile became more solid at her touch. It was worth it. Both of Dr. Masen's hands wrapped around Bella's and she leaned down to kiss his lips, just briefly.

She loved him. She whispered the words to him, kissing his forehead again as he took his last breaths, dying with the most mournful of smiles on his lips.

Climbing onto the table when he was still, Bella curled up beside her doctor and wept.

* * *

**Notes**

The Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Cullen Contest is accepting entries through to March 28th. You know what to do:

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/~jekyllandcullen

This has been a work in progress since December 16th; we wanted it done by Christmas, it took until my birthday. A lot of love has gone into this fic, and I wouldn't have had the heart without Kyrene. This story is as much hers as mine and I'd be lost without her.

Thank you also to AngstGoddess003, Bella's Executioner, cereuleanblue, Detochkina, kdc2239, Miss-Beckie-Louise, nicoconsd, southerngirl915 and VampiresHaveLaws for their superlative comments, especially when I was so nervous about getting the dynamics and the lemon right. It was my first, and their votes of confidence were invaluable. They weren't afraid to tell me what wasn't working, and in the first drafts, believe me, that was a _lot_.

This isn't eligible for the competition because one co-host wrote it and the other beta'd, but you should check out the other entries. C2's on my profile or the Jekyll and Cullen profile. There's plenty of time left to enter too. Feel free to PM either me or Kyrene once Blood Roses if you have a question, or just enjoy what's there.


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